


suspension and release

by skrsgards



Series: Bill Skargård Works [10]
Category: Bill Skarsgard - Fandom
Genre: Bondage, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skrsgards/pseuds/skrsgards
Summary: in which you let him do as he pleases with you





	suspension and release

“Why did I agree to this?

That was the thought, the only thought, that kept replaying in your head over and over. Why had you agreed to this?

In the beginning, it had sounded like fun. Wicked, sinful fun. You had been the one to bring it up, after all. You’d gone to your lover and proposed the idea. And he, ever the sinner, had eagerly agreed. The decision was mutual, and when he had asked you if he could do anything he desired to you, within reason and boundary, you had told him yes.

But now here you were, naked, writhing, trembling. He was above you, a devious smile on his handsome face. And in that moment, with his pale eyes burning right into your own, you were beginning to regret even suggesting this whole thing. He was punishing you in the most wonderfully painful way imaginable, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle it.

He had you stretched out across the mattress, arms tied to the headboard, legs bound and held apart so he could easily access the very center of you. Your skin was slick with sweat, eyes squeezed shut as you put every ounce of energy you had into holding on to what little control over yourself you had left. 

You could feel that all too familiar burn in your lower abdomen, threatening to engulf you in pleasure. But you couldn’t let go, not yet. You just had to hold out a little while longer, and you would finally get your reward. But goddammit, it was hard. 

Maybe it would be a little easier if you could make noise, let out your frustration through cries and moans. You weren’t allowed to make a sound, though, per his rules. If you so much as let out a whimper, you would be denied your orgasm, and would endure whatever punishment he deemed fit.

When he’d told you this, you had underestimated just how hard it would be. Now, you were wishing you had never let him make the rule, because all you wanted to do was scream at the top of your lungs. 

You’d lost track of time. Had it been minutes? Hours? He’d had that damned vibrator against your cunt for ages, on high, a setting you hardly used together because it was so intense. But he was feeling ruthless today, and was quite enjoying the sight of you squirming uncomfortably, pulling at your restraints. You looked up at him with wide eyes, silently begging him to offer some relief from the intense vibration, but he refused to oblige. 

Bill knew your body well, had you memorized like the back of his hand. He knew how you moved when you were about to tip over the edge, knew the look on your face, the tense in your muscles. And whenever he saw those telltale signs, he pulled the vibrator away promptly, leaving you to buck your hips into the air and sigh in bitter frustration. 

He was enjoying this, really. He’d never seen you so desperate before, he had to admit. It had his head spinning, body warm with desire. All he wanted was to be inside you, feel your slippery warmth envelop him. But he was exercising every ounce of self control he had. He would be inside you in due time. Right now, his priority was getting you to the edge again, give you a taste of release before pulling away just when your body was nearly at its peak. 

He watched you bite the inside of your cheek, surely hard enough to draw blood. You were trying your best to respect his wishes, follow his command, and for that, he loved you. You were his good girl, and he made a mental note to reward you tenfold after he was finished with you. You were handling this all better than he thought you would. 

He ran his free hand down your bare stomach, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Mm, you’re doing so well, sweet girl. Hold on just a little longer and Daddy will let you come.”

I have been holding on! You wanted to shout at him. But you bit your tongue - literally. If you yelled, it would surely earn you a bruised bottom and a denied orgasm. You could feel it, though. Searing through you like molten lava, threatening to burn you alive. Your chest began to heave, and as Bill looked at you, he saw the slightly panicked expression on your face. 

Instantly, he turned off the vibrator, partly because he couldn’t hand waiting any longer, and partly because he knew you were nearing the end of your rope. He set the handheld wand aside, reaching up to gently stroke the side of your face, praising you yet again. “You’re being so good for me.”

You nuzzled your warm face against his hand before his touch was gone, leaving only a soft rush of air in its wake. The sound of him unzipping his pants had you throbbing, knowing that in a few short moments, you would be filled to the brim. 

When he came back into view, he was completely bare, and you watched through hazy eyes as he reached down, lazily tugging at his cock before situating himself between your legs. In that moment, he wanted to tell you to beg for it, as he often did. But he wanted to see just how long you could stay silent. 

Leaning down, he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your lips before suddenly sliding into you, your own arousal providing more than enough lubricant for him. “Look at you,” he hummed, “soaked and ready for my cock.”

You pulled at your restraints again, leaning up, hoping he’d kiss you again. But he ignored your silent plea, placing his hands on either side of your arms, holding himself up as he began to slowly thrust into you. 

He couldn’t help but groan deeply at the feeling of you, so snug and warm around him. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to reach his end, and he was glad that he’d edged you so much, because that meant you’d finish right along with him. 

He brought his mouth down to your breasts, sucking and biting as he picked up his pace, fucking into you more deliberately. Beneath him, you were trying desperately to keep your mouth shut, to remain silent as he carried on. But he was making it damn near impossible. He felt so good, filling you deliciously, each ridge and vein brushing against every last inch of you. 

You closed your eyes, the sensations bubbling up within you growing too intense, enough to draw tears. They began sliding down the sides of your face and into your hairline, hot and wet. You moved in tune with him, rolling your hips, wanting and needing more. You were getting close, and you knew that he would let you come soon enough. In the beginning, he’d told you that you would only be allowed to come when he was inside you, and now, your sweet release was so close you could almost taste it on your tongue.

Bill was getting rougher, a little faster, a little deeper. He was making noise freely, groaning and growling, filthy words swimming through your head, telling you how good you felt, how wet you were. You wanted to scream, cry, wail. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold out. You were biting your cheek so hard you could taste copper in your mouth. 

Then he was all but pounding into you, hard and fast and unforgiving, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. A scream bubbled up in your throat, and you let it free, filling the room with the shrill sound. That’s when Bill stopped, going still as could be. When you opened your eyes, he was looking right at you. 

He grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to keep eye contact. “What the fuck was that?” 

“I-I-I’m sorry,” you sobbed, body undulating beneath him. “I c-couldn’t help it.”

“That’s not good enough.” He pulled out of you, immediately climbing off of the bed. 

“No, wait!” You gasped, “Daddy, please, I’m sorry, it just slipped out, I-”

But then, his hand was clamped over your mouth, eyes staring down at you so intensely you thought you would burst into flames right then and there. “Shut your mouth,” he snapped. “You are going to lay here, completely silent, until I come back. Do you understand?” 

You nodded, and he lifted his hand from your mouth. Tears were still streaming down your face, due to frustration, anger (mostly at yourself), and desperation. You sniffled, coughing and sputtering as you watched Bill stop to pull his sweatpants on. He turned to you, jaw hard set as he pointed at you. “You’re staying like this until I come back into the room.”

And then he was gone, leaving you stretched out and humiliated on the bed. It took you a long while to calm down, for the tears to stop and your breathing to return to normal. Meanwhile, Bill had made his way into the kitchen, stopping to pour himself a generous glass of wine before beginning his mission to make dinner. 

He knew this was torture for you, laying there, suspended and unable to do a single thing about it. He could only imagine how pliant you would be once he returned, willing to do absolutely anything he said, just so you could get a release. And if he was being honest, that was what he wanted, because he, too, needed a release. He was still hard within his pants, and knew it wouldn’t go away so easily. 

To distract himself, he put on some music - classical, Tchaikovsky’s 4th, and then proceeded to gather the ingredients he’d need. Pasta, of course. Something hearty and comforting, because he knew you’d need it after the all the exertion he’d put you under. 

He hummed along to the symphony as he began making dinner, taking gulps of wine here and there, which soon relaxed him and had him in the zone. Cooking was rather therapeutic for him, it seemed. 

In the bedroom, you could hear everything. The music, the clang of pots and pans. You could smell garlic cooking, and you knew he would take his sweet time preparing everything, just to further punish you. Damn him, the bastard. 

Your shoulders were becoming quite sore from your predicament, and so were your legs. It was rather uncomfortable. It always was, but normally, Bill removed the ropes from you the moment he was finished. But not tonight, because he was far from finished with you. 

In order to occupy yourself, you closed your eyes, attempting to create an elaborate story in your head. It did little to distract you fully, but it did help some. So you continued on. Waiting, waiting, waiting. 

And there was Bill, in the kitchen, draining the pasta and moving over to stir the sauce. He tasted it, deciding it needed a little more basil leaf before pausing to chop one and tossing it into the deep red liquid. 

He’d finished his wine at that point, and was now loose and calm, a stark contrast to how rough and strict he’d been with you. But despite that, he still left you tied up in the bedroom, not daring to set foot in the room until he was finished readying dinner. 

You were beginning to grow angrier at that point. Your patience was wearing thin. You knew this was what you deserved for disobeying his one rule, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. You just wanted him to come back and untie you. You thought about shouting for him, but decided against it. The only thing you would be allowed to utter was the safe word that had been put in place. But you were nowhere near needing to use it just yet, and it certainly wasn’t a word you would be inclined to throw around. 

So, you remained silent, just as you’d been doing for the past thirty minutes. And finally, you could hear his footsteps coming down the hall. An odd mix of both relief and anxiety swirled through you at once. Relief because you knew he would soon release you, and anxiety because you had no idea what was coming after. 

A wine glass was perched between his fingers, and a smirk was spread across his handsome face. “Look at my pretty little girl,” he murmured, strolling towards the bed. “Still spread out for me, just the way I left her.”

The clink of the glass being set on the night stand reached your ears, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off him to look at it. Bill’s hand came to rest against your cheek, before traveling downwards, skimming over your breasts, stomach, and finally landing between your legs. Those beautiful fingers slid along your wetness, and you shifted your hips, only to be shocked entirely by a light slap to your pussy. 

Even so, Bill had mercy on you. He’d punished you long enough, it was time to reward you. So, he reached up, taking the liberty to untie the bonds on your wrists. When your arms fell, you let out an audible sigh of relief, slowly lengthening your arms beside you as Bill moved to untie your legs. His fingers massaged over the marks the rope had dug into your skin, and he moved down to press a kiss there. 

For a moment, his eyes softened as he gazed at you. “You okay?” 

You mustered a weak, but genuine, smile, and nodded. Satisfied with that, Bill set the jute rope aside, climbing onto the bed. He hovered over you, seamlessly moving to leave a deep kiss on your lips. His large hands cupped your face, and he broke the kiss to look at you. “You can make noise this time around,” he granted, and yet another flood of relief washed over you. 

Bill made quick work of removing his pants then, tossing them to the floor below before settling between your legs yet again. You let your eyes flutter shut as you felt him pressing against your soft, wet center again. His voice, sweet and low, floated through your head then. 

“Beg for it, sweet girl.”

With what little energy you had left, you spoke. “P-please…I need to come so bad, it hurts. Please let me come, Daddy.”

If he was feeling spiteful, he would have demanded more from you. But in that moment, he needed his release as much as you did. So he took your plea with satisfaction, kissing you yet again as he slipped into you yet again. The feeling made you whine, and you grabbed at his arms. 

His movements were slow at first, gradually building. He covered you with his entire body, engulfing you in the safety of his arms as he fucked you. He soon had you trembling, gasping, moaning. The ability to let out sounds felt so wonderful, and you were sure to let out plenty. 

You were so painfully close. A full hour of stimulation still had you sensitive, even thirty minutes later. When Bill brought his hand down to the place where your bodies met, fingers pressing into your nub of nerves, you were keening beneath him, tears springing to your eyes all over again. 

“Shit,” Bill breathlessly cursed, “I can feel you tightenin’ around me. You gonna come for me, sweet girl?”

“Y-yes,” you squeaked, pathetically so. 

So, Bill went a little faster, a little harder. And soon, he was fucking you right into the mattress, hitting all those wonderful spots inside of you at a steady pace, sending shocks of delicious pleasure surging through you, like electricity through a life wire. 

Bill grunted and growled above you, trying his hardest to stave off his own orgasm. You were going to come before him, he was determined to make it happen. He was slamming into you at that point, the sound of skin on skin growing deafening. You cried out, clutching Bill hard enough to leave bruises. He captured your lips with his own again. 

“Come on,” he gritted out, “I know you want to come for Daddy. Do it, come all over my cock.”

You could only moan and whimper, writing and thrashing against the mattress. Bill had a look of determination twisted into his features. He wasn’t going to let up until you were completely overwhelmed. 

Bill grasped your face in his hand then, staring you down. You were trembling something awful at that point, sweaty, exhausted, nearly there. He placed his mouth against yours tugging your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing. “Open your mouth,” he hissed. 

Obediently, you did so, and as your lips parted, Bill didn’t miss a single beat, spitting into your mouth and pushing it shut promptly after. “Swallow.” Yet again, you obediently did so. The whole eroticism of it all was what pushed you over the edge, and with a desperate howl, you plummeted over the edge, shaking violently beneath Bill. 

He watched it all unfold, the way your pussy clamped tightly around him, throbbing and contracting, milking him. As your body began to flutter down from the mind numbing high, he reached his own, groaning deeply as his release seeped into you. 

He fell against you, sweaty, spent, a complete mess. You held onto him, trying to calm down, though you were still trembling. “Oh, good girl,” Bill sighed. “Such a good girl.”

He slowly pulled out, glancing down to watch the pearly white essence that dripped from you the moment he did so. Then he gazed back up at you, brushing away strands of hair that stuck to your forehead from the sweat. “Are you alright?”

The initial intensity of it all had worn off, and you were now left feeling sore and utterly drained. “I’m…I’m tired,” you whispered, unable to say anything else. 

“Come here,” he said, “let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He carried you into the bathroom, where he carefully set you on the counter, wetting a wash cloth and spreading your legs, wiping your center clean. Then he helped you stand, guiding you to the bed. Then he began to bustle around, in search of pajamas for you. 

“Your Talking Heads shirt,” you spoke up, referring to the shirt you’d been wearing the past few nights to sleep in, “hanging on the door.”

Without being told twice, he plucked it from its hook, presenting it to you. He instructed you to lift your arms, and pushed the shirt on over your head. Then he took you into his arms again, carrying you down to the kitchen and setting you at the table. 

“Mm,” you moaned, “it all smells so good.”

He proceeded to pour you some wine, which you gladly accepted, and thus began dinner, together, as lovers. You watched him intently, and he’d smile or blush ay you every so often. You thought it was adorable. 

Once dinner was finished, Bill knelt down in front of you. “What do you want to do?” He asked. This was how it always was. After you allowed him the privilege of using your body, he always allowed you to choose how you wanted to be cared for. 

“I wanna cuddle and watch something,” you replied, to which he nodded. 

“Coming right up,” he said, yet again picking you up. He left the dinner dishes, deciding he’d do them tomorrow. For now, his sole focus was taking care of you. You ended up in the bathroom again, where he placed you to stand on the floor. He kissed your forehead before pulling your toothbrush from the cup on the sink and squeezing toothpaste for it. 

Gently grabbing your face, he said, “open.”

You did so, and he placed the brush in your mouth, beginning the project of brushing your teeth. “Spit,” he told you, once he was finished. Once you were finished, he carried you to the bed, placing you gently onto the mattress. 

You curled up beneath the blankets as you watched Bill search for a movie in your expansive DVD collection. Finally, he decided on something with Fred Astaire, and popped it into the player before climbing into bed.

You curled up against his side, letting him engulf you in comfort and softness. Such a stark contrast to the rough, dominant man who’d just ruined you. You smiled to yourself, knowing just how much you loved him, and how much you always would. And you, in turn, knew that he loved you. 

“You were so good for me today,” he praised again, “how did I get so lucky?”

“I love you so much, Bill.”

“And I love you, sweet girl.”


End file.
